


29/03/16

by BleedingBishop



Series: Lost And Found Mystrade Drabbles [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Female Greg Lestrade, Female Mycroft Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-16 02:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingBishop/pseuds/BleedingBishop
Summary: Reupload of my writings in the LostandFoundMystrade's drabble collection.Originally posted 29/03/16





	29/03/16

I sometimes look at Mycroft and wonder how she could have possibly got this far in life being single.

Not in a “She needs a man to show her everything” way, hell knows that the man who thinks he could take her on is twice as stupid as he believes her to be merely because of her gender.

But sometimes there are little moments that shows that she could have so much potential as equal to someone.

In a job like hers, I imagine it would be hard to find people that she could view as equals. Intelligence, Career, Personal preference, so many reasons to stay alone and concentrate on things she can make herself equal to.

Her dedication to her job as its dedication to pushing her brain to its limits.

Her dedication to appearance, and its retribution to anyone who doubts her because of a pair of heels and pink lips.

Her dedication to her brother, and the neat slice of childish petulance she can relieve stress on as her reward (if she were as masochistic as some are to be believed).

If that is all you could see, I would get why they say she would still be single.

But she drinks gin and bitter lemon, sunlight glinting off of glass, as well as long fine ginger hair, let down after a hard day, weeks, months work.

But she likes cats, and once ‘aw’ed like a mother at a grandchild when the grumpiest looking Tom weaved itself between her stockinged ankle, no care to the fur that remained there.

But she likes hearing the rain on a windowpane, wrapped with naught but dark fur and warmth in her home watching the dark grey sky pour like a cleanse.

That’s one of my favourite images.

She’s sat in bed now, looking over a photo. She looks at it a lot, and I’m not embarrassed to say it makes me blush something terrible.

It’s the photo of me, drunk as a lord, and I’ve got my hand around her waist and fingers splayed on her silk blouse. She's looking as shocked as expected, I was a relative stranger, a friend of her brother and I had no idea I was then flirting terribly with the leader of the nation, and a few others. She offered to drive me home later, I remember, all dignity and grace that I was only thankful for the next day when I recalled calling her “Babe”, “Sugar” and “Gingersnap.”

To her face, I have never called her Gingersnap since. I’m not a glutton for that kind of punishment.

“You okay?” I whisper, perching on the edge of the bed. I push her long hair back from her shoulder and rested my chin on her shoulder, that bespoke perfume she has as natural to her as the smell of her sweat after sex or mint on her breath.

“Yes. Just thinking, my dear.”

“Do you do anything but?” I laugh, a second shuffle and I can sit on the bed properly, maneuver her to sit forward so I can sit behind her and situate that long body in the v of my legs.

“When thinking about you, less than I should.” She sighs, and the feeling of her relaxing into me, leaning back against my breasts, uncoiling like a snake, is heady.

“Oh? I hope it was something nice, this thought about me…” I bite her earlobe softly

“Oh yes, really rather special indeed.”

“Hm?”

“Ng-yes, I was having a very developed thought about you running your fingers under my skirt and up around my thighs to see if you liked my new suspender belt. Dark blue satin, you see…”

The idea of pale flesh in royal blue, such a good colour on her…

“Or was it the matching lace bra knicker set I was thinking about?”

Bloody tease, I’m only a woman, a mortal of flesh and blood, how could I possibly deny myself such teasing promises…

**Author's Note:**

> After a long discussion, I and Jack agreed to let me post my writing without argument, so now they're on Ao3 for posterity :)


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